


Eps4.0programs\virus.bat

by WispyWillows11



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Cute, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, M/M, Mr. Robot - Freeform, Surprise Kissing, kiss, s4, season 4, tyrelliot, who fucking knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 15:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WispyWillows11/pseuds/WispyWillows11
Summary: beginning of s4, tyrelliot is working together to take down dark army, and things get a lil steamy? noice





	Eps4.0programs\virus.bat

Hello, friend. Sorry, I haven't been talking to you as much lately. Well, that's actually probably a good thing. 

But there's been... developments since the last time we spoke. And I need to tell someone about them. Even if that someone is just my own subconscious. 

I think I have feelings for Tyrell.

But these feelings... they're like a parasite.

They entered me without my consent and burrowed themselves deep inside. I want them out, but I can't get rid of them. I feel them, growing and multiplying, making themselves at home inside of me.

I don't want them. They're draining me. They take everything. My sanity. My stability. My happiness.

Or what's left of those three things.

I don't know when they were born, but it's easy to tell when they're here.

These feelings materialize in my stomach and I feel them when I'm with him.

"Butterflies fluttering in your stomach". That's what everybody calls it, that's what it is supposed to feel like. But this doesn't feel like that all it. It feels like a worm. One that slithers around, slipping and sliding and cementing itself inside me.

They squirm and writhe whenever Tyrell is near. They're especially active when Tyrell's tie is hanging loosely around his neck and his hair is free of product, looking soft to the touch. They urge me to move closer, to reach out, to touch him. But I always deny them. I often feel them when we're working late at night, trying to stay three steps ahead of the Dark Army. They turn my thoughts away from the work at hand and infect my mind with images of Tyrell.

I've actually gotten to know the softer side of him during our time working together. How he likes way too much sugar in his coffee. How his favorite movie is unsurprisingly Titanic and his favorite show is surprisingly Parks and Rec. How he sleeps not in silk pajamas, which I assumed, but a Death Cab for Cutie shirt and boxers. How he softly sings Swedish lullabies to himself when he cooks.

I love to sit in the kitchen with him when does this. He has a very beautiful voice and it's very calming. I have no clue what he's singing, but I don't ask. I don't need to know.

I've gotten to know the man underneath the cold exterior he puts on and shows to the world. He's loyal, passionate, hardworking, committed, dedicated, and a thousand other things.

I've gotten to know who Tyrell actually is. And the man that I've gotten to know is a man I like.

Tonight, he looks so... unwound. He's not wearing a stuffy suit to impress his colleagues or superiors. He just wears a simple blue t-shirt and grey sweatpants. I've never seen him this dressed down. He didn't apply any of his cologne (his usual is Chanel Bleu De Eau De Parfum, I've discovered from Tyrell after being a bit too intoxicated by it one night). Like I said, his hair doesn't have a drop of product in it and it doesn't have the uptight rigidity it usually holds. It's free and strands keep falling into his eyes.

I've never noticed how vivid and beautiful his eyes are before. Whenever Tyrell was with people he works with at Evil Corp, they seemed so cold and lifeless, an impossibly light pale blue color; it almost looked like he wasn't really seeing what was in front of him. But when he's with me, they seem to change. They seem darker and they're so attentive, as if he really sees me. He's processing and assessing me, it seems, taking me in and maybe even trying to commit every bit of me to memory. He makes extensive eye contact with me, which would usually make me feel uncomfortable, but for some reason, with him, it's different.

Everything is different with him.

I like when he looks at me. He looks at me in a way that no one else ever has, like he thinks I'm this wonderfully astonishing creature, instead of something broken and bruised, the way that most people do. With pity in their eyes. Tyrell's eyes hold nothing like pity. Only adoration and contentedness.

I don't think Tyrell has ever been content in his life, but it seems that he is when he's with me. I couldn't tell you why, but it just seems like he is with me. It seems like he's content to do nothing but stay holed up in his house, drink crappy coffee, and work with me on our project. I ask him what he plans on doing after we finish.

He thinks about this for a second, his now stagnant fingers resting on the keyboard. "Well, to tell you the truth, I haven't really thought about that."

I nod. Makes sense.

He doesn't return to his work. He's staring at a spot on the monitor and nibbling on his lip.

"What?"

"I just... I actually don't know what I'm going to do after this. My wife is dead, my son is in foster care, my career is in shambles and I'm a joke around the office now. I have nothing left."

That stings. I'm  _nothing_?

"I don't really want to think about it." He returns to his work and I attempt to do the same, stumbling over code.

It's about an hour before we talk again and I'm the one to start the conversation. "Do I mean nothing to you?"

He turns to me abruptly, a look of shock on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"When you were talking about what you're going to do after this... you said that you have nothing. Am I nothing?"

Tyrell's looks at me. "I didn't know I had you."

I avert my eyes, suddenly feeling very exposed. Why did I say anything? I don't even know what I want from him. I shouldn't have opened my mouth. God, why am I like this? I'm a fucking moron, why do-

"Elliot?"

I look up at Tyrell. He's looking at me with a mixture of concern, wondering, and an emotion I can't quite place. He leans forward, his piercing eyes intensely staring into mine.

"Where did you go just now?"

Shit. How long was I zoning out for? "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Um... just, the plan."

"Oh," Tyrell says, sounding disappointed. "I see." He turns back to his work, fingers returning to the keyboard.

He looks sad and I reach out to cover his hand with mine, attempting to comfort him in whatever awkward, clunky way I can. Before I really realize what I've done, Tyrell is looking at my hand on top of his and he has a slightly shocked but soft look on his face. I yank my hand back and get up from my chair, walking away. "S-Sorry, I shouldn't-"

Tyrell gets up and follows after me. "No, please, don't apologize. I... I like when you touch me."

I stay turned around because I don't know what to say. "Okay."

"Elliot? What is it?" Tyrell walks around and I drop my eyes to the floor to avoid his.

"I d-don't know," I say, which admittedly is true. I know I have some kind of feelings for Tyrell, that much is clear to me. Not much is clear to me, but this is.

Most of the time, I try to use my fucked up brain, whenever it lets me, to deal with situations in life, but Tyrell? My brain doesn't seem to want to work right whenever I'm around Tyrell. It just does a, "Yeah, I'm not dealing with this", kinda thing and leaves me to my own devices. When it comes to Tyrell, I have to use my heart.

God, that's sounds so fucking cheesy.

It's true, though. My brain doesn't help me for shit, but my heart does let me know how I feel about him. The way it kicks up when he's around. The way it jumps to my throat when he leans in close to me. The way it drops into my stomach if I see that he's unhappy. It's obviously my heart trying to tell me something, but I don't want to admit that I know what's going on or to what I'm feeling.

I don't know why I can't admit it. These feelings are completely normal and valid. They're not parasites anymore. They aren't here without my consent anymore and they don't drive me crazy thinking about them.

These feelings  _are_  butterflies. Beautiful and freeing.

I don't know why I feel like I can't admit to my feelings. Wait, maybe I can't admit to these feelings I have because my mother ingrained in me from the time I could talk that I would marry a woman and that there would be no other acceptable scenario regarding my love life. Maybe it's because this kind of thing is completely and terrifyingly new to me. Maybe it's because I'm scared that he won't feel the same way that I do.

There could be a million different reasons for me to not admit what I know is true. 

Shit. How long has it been since I've said anything? I have got to stop zoning out so much, Tyrell is going to think I'm a freak. Not that he probably doesn't already think that. I wouldn't blame him for thinking that if he does.

"Are you okay, Elliot?" Tyrell's voice rips me from my thoughts and I manage to look up into his eyes. They seem almost stormy, concern evident in the way his eyebrows knit together. "You've been acting strangely tonight."

I laugh weakly. "More than usual, you mean?"

Tyrell laughs awkwardly. "I suppose. Elliot-" He puts a hand on my shoulder and I jump at the sudden contact. This time, it's his turn to jerk his hand away. "What is it?"

"I-I'm sorry," I say, turning my eyes to the ground again.

"Elliot, would you stop apologizing so much?" Tyrell says, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. I don't blame him, though. I'm a lot to handle.

"Yeah, I'm sor-" I actually laugh this time. "I will."

Tyrell nods and smiles. "How about we stop for the night? It's getting pretty late." Tyrell strides back over to the dining room table and picks up his phone, checking the time. "Oh, wow. It's three o'clock."

"It is?" I question, rubbing my eyes. I let out a long yawn and start to load up my backpack. "I should probably get going."

"At this hour?" Tyrell asks, looking displeased. "It's three in the morning; it's not safe for you to walk home alone."

I stand there awkwardly, mid-putting my laptop in my bag. "Uh, well, you could drive me home, I guess. If you don't mind."

"Or... you could... stay here."

I look at him, my heartbeat picking up. Is he serious? Is he really inviting me to stay over?

He's probably just being nice. Considerate. Nothing more than that. Don't read into things. 

"I would drive you home, but my car is in the shop right now."

"Oh. Um, yeah. That... would be nice, then. Thanks."

Tyrell's face lights up hearing this. He turns away from me, but I catch a glimpse of a small smile that creeps onto his face before he does. "Great. I'll make up the guest room for you. If you want to shower, you can. There's a shower in my room and I'll get you something to sleep in."

He starts to head up the stairs and I follow suit. He leads me down a dark hallway, flipping on the light of his bedroom when we come to it. The bedding is a pale blue color and everything is right in its place and very polished-looking, almost clinical. It seems weird to see Tyrell's bedroom like this: collected and almost sort of calm. Unlike Tyrell.

His bedroom is like another facade he cultivates. Put together and polished, when in all reality, he's nothing like that. He's emotional and real and all over the place.

I like that much better.

Tyrell flips on the light to the bathroom. He shows me where the towels are and how to use the shower (thankfully). "I'll go make up the bed for you and then put some clothes outside the door for you to wear to bed."

"Thanks, Tyrell," I say.

He nods and exits the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I turn on the faucet and shed my clothes (God, how long have I been wearing these for?). I get in the shower and sigh as the hot water pours down my back and over my aching muscles. God, this whole "taking-down -the-Dark-Army-before-they-can-do-anything-more-devastating-to-the-world-and-its-economy" thing is fucking exhausting. I shower quickly, wanting to lay down and get off my feet as fast as I can. Yeah, we've been sitting all day, but still. The work is draining.

I turn off the water and exit the shower, towelling off. I wrap the now-wet towel around my waist and secure it. I open the door to see if Tyrell's put that change of clothes outside the door yet. Shit, he hasn't. Must've showered too fast and he's still making up the guest bedroom.

I walk out into his bedroom, wanting to get out of that steamy bathroom; I can barely breathe in there. I look around the flawlessly-decorated bedroom at the enormous pale blue bed, the dark mahogany side tables, the bright white bedside lamp. I walk over to the dresser and pick up a picture frame with a photo of Tyrell's wife, Joanna, in it. She looks beautiful; her hair is curled and she wears a bright red strapless dress. She's laughing in the picture, and it looks genuine. The few times I talked with Joanna, she had smiled a couple of times, but they were never real smiles. The maliciousness in her eyes always betrayed them. But this was different. I don't know what it was exactly about this smile that told me it was real, but I could tell it was.

Tyrell must've taken this picture.

"I miss her every day."

I nearly drop the picture but manage to place it back on the dresser. I turn to see Tyrell standing beside me and looking down at the photo. "I shouldn't have-"

Tyrell dismissively waves a hand and shakes his head. "It's okay."

"She was really beautiful," I say, not really knowing what to say.

"She was," he nods, a sad smile on his face. "But that's not all she was. She was determined and ambitious. And very strong."

"I'm sorry, Tyrell. And I know you told me not to say that, but I am sorry."

Tyrell turns to me, a calm but far-away look in his eyes. "Thank-you, Elliot. That means a lot."

There's a picture of a baby sleeping in a crib beside Joanna's picture. It looks like it's a screenshot from a baby monitor cam. That's his son.

"How old is he now?" I ask.

Tyrell turns his eyes to the frame and picks it up. His eyes start to tear up as he looks down at the picture of his son. "6 months. I haven't seen Elias in so long. Who knows how long it'll be before I get to see him again? He may not even remember me."

My heart sinks at this. Fuck, he's been through so much. I know how that feels.

I don't really know what to say, so I do something that takes a lot of courage for someone like me to do. I take the frame from his hands, putting it back on the dresser, and I slip my arms under his and wrap them around his middle, trying to give him whatever bit of comfort I can.

Tyrell doesn't do anything at first. He's probably more than a little shocked, but after only a few seconds have passed, he pulls me as close to himself as he can. One arm is splayed up my back and the other is around my waist, Tyrell's fingers pressing into my hip. His shaking, shuddering breath is hot on my neck; it makes the short hairs there stand up on end.

Goosebumps break out over my skin as I feel gentle fingers begin to card through my hair, but soon Tyrell's just cradling my head in his hand like it's something precious and in need of protection. His heart is pounding against mine; it's beating so fast I'm starting to get a little worried for his health. He pulls me flush against him, the heat of his body floating through me and warming my core.

I'm not sure how long we stand there for. It could be for only minutes or it could be for hours. I have no way of knowing.

Eventually, I feel Tyrell's grip on me loosen and he leans back from me. I can see that he's been crying from the red rims under his eyes and the blotchy skin on his cheeks. He scrubs the remaining tears from his eyes and exhales. "I'm sorry about that."

I smile at him. "Tyrell, would you stop apologizing so much?"

He laughs and it's genuine and it's beautiful and it's perfect. This is perfect. Just being here with Tyrell, joking with him, holding him, being close with him.

Well, it's not exactly perfect. Perfect would be pulling him against me and kissing his lips again and again until it feels like we've always been doing this. As if it's as natural as breathing.

"Thank-you, Elliot," Tyrell says. He doesn't say anything now; he just looks at me, a soft smile playing on his lips and his eyes looking tired, but they also look content. And happy. "You... you know how much you mean to me, right?"

My heartbeat kicks up at this. I swallow and nod. "I think so."

"You mean a great deal to me."

"You... you mean a lot to me, too, Tyrell," I answer, and he does. I feel so much for this man, which is crazy to think about. If you had told me nine months ago that I would have developed feelings for the Senior Vice President of Technology for ECorp, I would've said you're batshit. And I would know, being batshit myself.

But now? Nothing but this would make sense.

Tyrell smiles and flushes slightly. "Th-That's nice to hear."

We stand there in his room, both not really knowing what to do now. Tyrell breaks the silence by clearing his throat and saying, "Well, it's late. We should probably go to bed. There's lots to do tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're probably right." I say, nodding. I go scarlet as I remember something; I'm only wearing a towel. "Uh, could I get those clothes first?"

"Oh, yes!" Tyrell says, looking embarrassed. He looks at me, noticing my unclad body and he averts his eyes. He walks over to his closet, opens it, and comes back with a black t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. "Sorry, about that." He doesn't look at me. I quickly change into the clothes.

"Tyrell?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to do that. I'm comfortable with you."

Tyrell looks up. "Oh." A smile. "Good. I'm glad." A shake of his head. "I'll show you to the guest room."

It's a nice room. There's a double bed with a black comforter on it, an armchair, and a short dresser in it.

I sit down on the bed and rub my eyes, feigning a sense of weariness that I don't really feel. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

Tyrell nods. "Of course. I have the extra room and I wouldn't have you walking home alone." He looks me up and down and a tender look is on his face. He must like to see me in his clothes. "Goodnight, Elliot."

"Goodnight, Tyrell."

He shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone, which, for once, I don't want to be. Sighing, I decide that I probably  _should_  be getting some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be another long day, just like every day has been for the past couple of weeks. I hop in bed ( _fuck_ , that's a nice mattress) and pull the covers all the way up. I'm warm and comfortable and I drift off to sleep.

Like you'd believe that.

I keep looking at the clock about every five minutes and every minute that passes feels like an eternity. I can't sleep. Shocker.

It's been about two hours before I get out of bed and head downstairs to get something to drink. 

When I get to the first floor, I see that Tyrell is up, too. He's facing away from me and I hear humming coming from his general direction. I walk closer to him, but he doesn't notice me. Tyrell's not wearing a shirt, his muscular back exposed and turned to me, and his hair is swirled in the back. I'm not sure what he's making, but it smells very herbal, very earthy. I take another step and the floorboards creak beneath my weight. 

Tyrell stops his humming and turns around. He smiles when he sees me. "Oh, hey, Elliot. You couldn't sleep as well?" 

I nod and sit down at the dining room table. "Seems like it. What are you making?" 

"Chamomile tea," he says. "I always make it when I can't sleep. Which has been the case recently." He sighs. "Would you like a cup?" 

"Yeah, that'd be great." 

Tyrell starts to boil another kettle of water and as he does, he starts to hum again. 

"What are you humming?" I ask. It sounds like it's the one he usually hums. 

"Oh, it's called 'Ensam Går Jag Här Och Vankar'. It's a traditional Swedish song." 

"Can you sing it for me?" Well, I'm sure getting bold at 5:37 in the morning.

Pink blooms in his cheeks, but he nods. "Sure. 

"Ensam går jag här och vankar,

Söker efter vännen min

Ensam går jag här och vankar,  
Söker efter vännen min

Se, jag möter honom här,  
Han, som är min hjärtans kär

Vill du såsom förr med mej  
Svänga om I dansen säj?" 

His voice is so beautiful. It's clear and has such a nice tone to it. I mean, I know shit about singing, but it sounds good to me. 

"What does that mean?" I ask. 

His cheeks turn a much deeper shade of red now. "It means:

I walk alone and wander here,

Looking for my friend.

I walk alone and wander here,  
Looking for my friend.

Look, I meet him here,  
He, who my heart holds so dear.

Say if you will dance with me,  
As you did before?" 

"I like that," I say. "It's pretty." 

The kettle sings and Tyrell pours the now-boiling water into a blue and white tea cup for me. He adds the tea bag to the cup and he brings the cup over to me, sitting down at the table beside me. 

"It reminds me of home." 

"Do you miss Sweden?" 

Tyrell thinks about this for a second. "Sometimes. I miss my mother quite a bit. I was very close to her."

"Not your father?" 

Tyrell shakes his head then gets a confused look on his face. "No, I don't like my father. I told you that." 

Oh, he probably told Robot that. "Um, I don't know if that was  _me_  you told, necessarily." 

"Ah, I see," Tyrell nods. "No, I was never close to my father. He was a very cold and distant man. My mother was kind and loving, but not my father. He would... drink a lot. He'd get very angry when he drank. He was never physically abusive, but he was verbally." 

"I'm sorry, Tyrell," I say. So, we were both abused as kids. Another thing we have in common. "I know how hard it is to have an abusive parent." 

"You do?" A sad look passes over Tyrell's face. 

 I nod, taking a sip of the tea. "My mom was really abusive towards my sister and I. Physically and verbally. I think the verbal was worse. She was never happy with anything we did. Being the oldest, I took most of the abuse. But I was fine with it, since then she'd leave Darlene alone. Keeping Darlene safe and happy was always really the only thing I cared about." 

Tyrell smiles at me. "You're so selfless." 

It's my turn to blush now and I look down into my cup. "Not always." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, 5/9? I mean, I tried to tell myself that it was all about giving the power back to the people and making change, but it was really all about revenge and my ego. And 5/9 destroyed so much. It devastated our already unstable economy, ruined good, hard-working people and made them lose everything. It got people...  _killed_.  And that was my fault." My eyes start to blur from the tears now forming in them. "It was all my fault." 

Tyrell leans closer to me and he takes my hands in his. I don't jump at the contact. My hands are always cold and his large hands warm mine. 

"Elliot, you were trying to do something good. You were trying to do what you thought was right and your were trying to help people. 5/9 meant something to people. It spurred them on to change what they thought was wrong and inspired them. 5/9 did a lot of harm, but it also did a lot of good." 

I shake my head. "It didn't do enough good to be worth it. I wish I'd never done it." 

"Well, now you're doing what you can to set things right." 

I shrug, suddenly remembering what shitty thing I've done. This is what I do. I try to help and I end up ruining everything. Why can't I ever do anything right. God, what the fuck is wrong-

"Elliot?" 

"Sorry, I'm here." 

"Are you?" Tyrell says, giving me a knowing smile. "You're sure you're not in your head?" 

 I smirk. "Maybe I was."  

Tyrell smiles again, something he seems to do quite a bit around me. I like that. 

I realize that Tyrell's still holding my hands. I don't want him to stop.  

I don't know if it's just because I am so sleep-deprived or if it's the way he's looking at me, but I want to tell him. Whatever this is, whatever I'm feeling for him, I want to tell him. 

But something stops me. Why can't I just fucking say it? This is completely normal. There's nothing wrong with what I feel. My anxiety just keeps telling me, "Don't do this. You  _shouldn't_  do this." Anxiety's great. 

Tyrell finally notices he's still holding my hands. He sets them down gently the table. 

He's so gentle with me. 

There could be a million different reasons for me to not admit what I know is true. 

But I don't care about any of them anymore.     

Fuck it.  

I don't know what possesses me, but I take his face in my hands and ram my lips into his. Tyrell makes a small sound, almost like a muffled cry, but he soon melts into the kiss, fully reciprocating. I move my hands from his face and I card my fingers through his hair. He pulls me closer to him but he suddenly pulls back from me. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Tyrell. Did you not want to do-" 

"Is it really you?" He says, looking deeply into my eyes. 

"What?" 

"It's Elliot, right? Not... anyone else? I need to know." 

Oh. "It's me, Tyrell."  

He looks at me, almost inspecting me with his brow furrowed, but he soon smiles. "It  _is_  you."  

"How do you know when it's me?" I ask. 

"Because of how I feel when it's you." 

At this, I can't help but pull Tyrell in for more. His lips are so soft and warm against mine. This just feels so right. I couldn't describe the feeling it gives me if I tried. 

Tyrell pulls me up from the chair, his lips never leaving mine, and he pushes me against the nearest wall. His hands wrap around my waist and he presses his body as close as possible to mine as he can. I thrust my hands into his hair, twisting my fingers into the soft strands. I feel his tongue playing at the entrance to my mouth and I open up to let him in. 

I'm going to accept all of him tonight.  

His breath is sweet and hot in my mouth and his tongue is everywhere. Tasting me, feeling me, and my mine is doing the same. He's delicious, tasting of mint and the chamomile tea we'd had previously.  He's intoxicating and the kiss is sending a fuzzy feeling to my head and a fluttering sensation to my stomach. He's kissing me like he's wanted to do this for so long and he can't believe he finally gets to.

It feels like if he had it his way, our lips would never leave each other. 

 Soon, though, his lips have moved to my neck, and he's devouring me. My breath is coming in short gasps. I don't mind. He litters my neck in kisses and my eyes flutter shut, the feeling absolutely unbelievable. I haven't pleasure like this in a long time and it's never been this intense before. It's what he's doing, but it's also just him. 

He kisses my lips again and leans back, presumably to take a breath, which we have not taking much of. He licks his lips. "Elliot, do you want to...?" 

I know exactly what he's asking. 

"Yeah. I do."

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning, i don't really know where im going with this lol


End file.
